


the gift of me to you

by twistedsky



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5097035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedsky/pseuds/twistedsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michaela starts receiving gifts from an apologetic secret gift-giver. She's not interested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the gift of me to you

**Author's Note:**

> I was in one of the Laurel/Michaela tags on tumblr, and I saw a post about Laurel trying to woo Michaela. And while this isn't exactly that, that was the inspiration for this.
> 
> I started writing this a couple weeks ago, so I think it's only canon through 2x01 or 2x02, and I just sort of picked and chose random things from the other episodes, depending on what fit with what I already had, so the timeline/canon-ness of it is a bit weird. 
> 
> Warnings: References to canon murder, some violence(choking)/attempted murder, sex, alcohol consumption, and some internalized biphobia. 
> 
> Hopefully this fic isn't completely terrible. I'm contemplating writing either some kind of marriage of convenience/fake dating au or straight up murder girlfriends, but I don't know.

Michaela’s furious at Laurel—can’t stop herself from mimicking her, can’t stop herself from glaring at her even when she’s not looking, can’t stop herself from wanting to launch herself at Laurel and tear her apart.

Thankfully, she manages to stop herself from _actually_ tearing Laurel apart, so she supposes that’s a win.

~~

When Nate Lahey gets released from jail, and the charges get dropped, she’s not sure whether to be grateful or terrified.

On one hand, she doesn’t exactly want an innocent person to go to jail. On the other hand, the uncertainty of not knowing who the next person the police are going to finger is getting to her.

Michaela isn’t going to jail, of that much she’s sure.

If it comes down to it, she’ll get out, and start over somewhere new.

Michaela Pratt is not a loser, and she’s not going to spend the rest of her life in jail.

She gets home late, like she often does these days. If she’s not in class, then she’s working for Annalise, or she’s studying her ass off.

When she turns the corner to reach the hallway where her apartment is, she sees a bouquet of flowers in a vase.

Michaela frowns.

She’s not sure if this is some weird attempt by Aiden’s mom to try to get her back, because she’s said her piece, and she’s done with him.

She wanders closer and bends over to pick the vase up. It’s heavy, and full of star-shaped flowers.

She presses her body hard against the vase to shove it up against the wall so that she can hold it in place and free her other hand to open her door.

She sets the flowers down, shuts the door behind herself, and then just stares at the flowers.

She walks around the counter, as if stalking her prey.

“Calm down and just read the card, Michaela,” she mutters to herself, and reaches out to grab the card.

She frowns down at the words.

_I’m sorry._

Well, that’s not helpful.

She looks up the meaning of the flowers on her phone, and then shrugs. Apparently they can be used for an apology. She can only think of a handful of people who might want to apologize to her, and she doesn’t care to forgive any of them.

And so she grabs the flowers and dumps them unceremoniously in the trash can.

Now she has to take out the trash, and she’s even more irritated than before, because there are so many freaking flowers, and she doesn’t want any of them.

She does, however, want the vase. It’s pretty, and clearly expensive, so she rinses it out and sets it on the counter.

Then, she starts thinking about a paper she needs to work on, because she’s got more important things to worry about than a bunch of flowers.

~~

“Michaela,” Laurel says, coming up beside her outside of the fence to Annalise’s house. It’s an early morning, and Michaela’s halfway freezing and staring down at her phone, checking her email. “Good morning.”

“Well, I hope you have a bad morning,” Michaela says with as much perkiness as she can manage to cover the bitterness. Her eyes are pinned on her phone, and she’s very studiously _not_  looking at Laurel.

Laurel is silent then.

Michaela feels anger building up inside of her, and she wants to scream, or maybe punch someone. Preferably Laurel, but right now she’s not all that picky. Her vision is blurring, and she can barely focus on what she’s reading.

Asher comes up beside them then, smiling happily and irritating her the second she notices his presence.

That’s not entirely fair, but she doesn’t care.

His presence does defuse some of the anger she’d been building because of Laurel, so at least there’s that.

Asher rambles on about some party he’s going to the next weekend, and Michaela tunes him out. She’s still pretending to care about something on her phone despite the fact that she’d exhausted her unopened emails nearly the second Laurel walked up next to her.

Michaela would rather reread emails from five years ago then make eye contact with Laurel.  

Laurel gets near her ear without her noticing and whispers, “I’m not giving up, Michaela,” she says, and it sounds a lot like a promise, which worries Michaela.

Michaela looks up sharply. “You should.” Thankfully, Connor shows up then, and Michaela strikes up a conversation with him, just to keep Laurel from trying to talk to her.

They work together, but they’re not even close to being friends.

~~

The first flowers came on a Friday.

They come again on Thursday, except this time they’re yellow roses.

The roses are beautiful, and as much as she wants to be resentful, maybe these are from someone other than the person who sent the first bouquet. It’s unlikely, but these flowers don’t have a note.

She did meet that cute guy Levi, and it’s not too far-fetched that he managed to send her some flowers.

These flowers don’t have a vase, but they’re just as stunning as the first bouquet she’d received.

She fills the vase with water and the plant food the roses came with, and arranges the roses neatly within it.

She’s not proud of being a predictable girl, but there’s nothing quite like roses.

~~

She’s hanging out with Levi, and trying to work in some flower humor to see if he’d sent her the flowers, but he doesn’t bite, and she’s left feeling disappointed.

“That girl’s in a bouquet of trouble,” she says, referencing the movie on her TV screen.

Levi just turns and looks at her strangely. “That’s a really weird phrase,” he says, and she feels a rush of embarrassment.

“Sorry,” she says, “I think I read it in a book or something, must have internalized it.”

Levi just nods, and turns back to the movie.

Michaela can’t focus on the movie—some action movie with very little plot, _one_ black character who dies halfway through, and a poorly developed love interest.

It’s terrible, and she falls asleep two-thirds of the way through.

She wakes up snuggled against Levi, so she’ll count that as a win.

~~

When she gets a copy of a book that isn’t supposed to be out for another month, written by her _favorite_ author, she’s not sure what to do.

Correction: She does what any reasonable person would do, and she devours it.

Then, she reads it again, this time more slowly, savoring every pleasing turn of phrase.

Most of her privacy settings are set to just friends, but her likes are viewable by anyone, and so it would have taken very little work for someone to discover her obsession with her favorite trashy romance author.

She’s not embarrassed by her love of them, not in the slightest. Everyone needs at least a few good guilty pleasures.

When a large bundle of Swiss chocolate ends up delivered to her door, she’s torn between wanting to eat it, and being concerned that it’s some sort of plot to kill her.

She mentions it to Levi, who frowns.

“Someone is sending you thoughtful gifts, flowers, and chocolate?” he asks.

Well, _obviously_ , since that’s what she just said, but that’s mean, and they haven’t even defined their relationship, so it’s probably too early for her to be that snarky with him.

“Yeah, why?” Michaela says instead. It’s weird, right? It can’t just be her thinking that it’s strange that she’s getting gifts from someone.

“Sounds like whoever it is . . . “ Levi trails off.

“What?” Michaela demands impatiently.

“They’re seducing you, or thinking about it.” Levi is wrong, clearly.

This isn’t Aiden—she’s not proud of it, but after the second set of flowers, she’d stalked him all over social media, and he’s already moved on.

It’s only been a few weeks, with a gift each week, but already it’s too excessive for a simple apology from him.

And Aiden is the only person who would do this, which means that either Levi is lying(unlikely), or she’s missing something.

The book was specific to her, which means it’s not some case of mistaken identity.

She’s going to get to the bottom of this, she decides.

~~

“Hey, do you know anything about Swiss chocolate?” Michaela asks Connor.

They’re between quick cases, which means they’re working on the pseudo-incestuous siblings case.

There’s nothing new to be found, as far as she’s concerned.

“It’s from Switzerland,” Connor offers helpfully.

She sends him a quick glare, then rolls her eyes and sighs.

“What’s going on?” Connor asks.

Michaela’s not sure if she wants to tell him, but he’s relatively clever, and maybe he’ll have some kind of insight or something.

“Someone is . . . sending me things,” she says eventually.

“What, like threats?” Connor asks, already more interested in the conversation.

“No,” Michaela shakes her head, “Like gifts. Flowers, chocolate, a book.”

Connor makes a face. “Levi thinks a book is romantic?”

“It’s by my favorite author,” Michaela says, defending her strange gift-giver despite herself. “And it’s not Levi.”

“Then who is it?” Connor asks, and Michaela fights the urge to reach over and slap him.

“I don’t know, Connor, that’s the point. Whoever is doing it must be delivering the gifts by hand, instead of the post office, or fed ex, or whatever, so that there’s nothing to point back to them.”

“Well, you have your very own fairy godmother. I’m almost jealous,” Connor says, going back to reading the pile of files in his lap.

Clearly, he’s not in the mood to be helpful.

The others are off on mini missions for the case, and they’re stuck here reading over old files, looking for some kind of a spark of genius.

Michaela’s not sure there is one. She’s pretty sure the siblings did it.

But the job is not to judge, or to convict, it’s to acquit.

Her benefactor will have to wait till later.

~~

Laurel is annoying.

She won’t stop trying to get under Michaela’s skin—or maybe that’s just a side effect from the fact that she’s challenging Michaela at every turn.

She’s not always nice, and she’s not always aggressive, she’s some weird sort of in-between.

Laurel is stubborn, but so is Michaela.

“We should go to a movie, have a girls’ night,” Laurel suggests, and Michaela just sighs.

“Laurel, I don’t want to go the movies with you,” Michaela says impatiently. “I’m trying to study.”

Laurel looks over at the textbook Michaela is trying to cram into her brain. “Study with me then.”

Michaela kind of hates Laurel, but she’s tempted by the offer. Laurel makes a really good study guide, and there’s no real reason for Michaela not to take advantage of that.

“Fine,” Michaela says, “But that doesn’t make us friends.”

“It makes us study buddies,” Laurel says with a slight, knowing smirk. She thinks she’s won this round, and that just irritates Michaela even more.

Laurel brings out the worst sort of feelings in Michaela.

~~

Laurel is a good study buddy, which just makes things worse.

They’re at Michaela’s apartment, working through some scenarios when Laurel spots Michaela’s romance novel.

“You like romance novels?” Laurel asks innocuously.

Michaela bristles a little, but then acknowledges that Laurel doesn’t sound judgmental. And even if she did, Michaela doesn’t care.

“Yes,” Michaela says, “Now, can we get back to—“

Laurel interrupts. “You have a really nice place. Very homey. Nice flowers.”

The flowers keep coming.

“They’re okay,” Michaela says. They’re beautiful, actually, but she’s in a bitter mood, because she doesn’t know who they’re from, and they seem to be a mainstay, coming with the book and the chocolate, and the coffee maker that came this week. “A little wasteful,” she continues. “It’s not exactly environmentally friendly.”

Laurel looks like she wants Michaela to keep talking, but she doesn’t.

“I see,” Laurel says, and there’s an unreadable look on Laurel’s face.

Michaela doesn’t know what it is about Laurel, but she’s so incredibly hard to decipher. There could be an entire world of things going on in that brain, and no one would ever know.

From some of the things Michaela has seen Laurel say and do, she tends to think there is.

It’s all bubbling under the surface, and if Michaela didn’t hate her, she’d want to uncover it all.

~~

The flowers stop the next week, and if Michaela weren’t so stressed about her exam, she’d give it more thought.

For now, she just thinks that this person and herself are simply on the same page.

She does, however, get a small charm bracelet.

It’s simple, elegant.

It’s perfect. The charms are perfect for her too—a book, a phoenix, the scales of justice.

She feels a little weird about wearing it, especially after a quick google search reveals that it’s a $400 charm bracelet, which is both pricey and stunning.

~~

Levi has his hands around her throat, and she’s going to die.

This is it, this is over.

This is the end.

There’s a knock at her door, and Levi doesn’t even move, just glares at her with hatred in his eyes.

When he’d started yelling about Rebecca, and the fact that she clearly had something to do with her death(which, woah, who said anything about Rebecca being dead, okay?), she’d felt something break inside of her.

If she weren’t about to die, how would she ever trust anyone ever again?

“Michaela, we’re supposed to study,” Laurel says from outside the door, and for the first time, Michaela is grateful to hear her voice.

Levi stops choking her so that he can cover her mouth and stop her from screaming.

She bites him, and his yelp is loud enough that Laurel hears it.

“Michaela?” Laurel says again, sounding concerned.

Michaela hears Laurel start ramming her door, trying to break it open. She’s not sure where she learned how to do it, but less than a minute later, Laurel is inside and rushing Levi, knocking him over onto the floor.

Michaela holds her throat and tries not to cry.

The betrayal is bad enough. The fear though, the fear is overwhelming.

Laurel must have some sort of self-defense training, because she’s completely incapacitated Levi.

“Thank you,” Michaela says softly, and Laurel just looks back at her and nods.

“I’m sorry about your door,” Laurel says, “I’ll get it fixed first thing tomorrow, but in the meantime—“

They both stare down at Levi.

“Why?” Laurel demands of Levi, who says nothing. She yanks his arm in an incredibly uncomfortable position.

“Rebecca was my friend, and now she’s dead.”

Michaela watches Laurel carefully, and notes that Laurel doesn’t look surprised that Rebecca is apparently dead, and Levi has found proof of it.

“Did you kill her?” Michaela asks, and it’s like she can’t stop herself. The words just spill out.

Laurel terrifies her sometimes, but rarely any more than Michaela terrifies herself. This, however, would tip the scale.

Laurel looks back at Michaela, and almost looks hurt. “Of course not. I just figured that if she were alive, she’d have shown up by now.” Her words are careful and vague, giving nothing away to Levi.

Oddly, Michaela believes her.

“What are we going to do with him?” Michaela asks, motioning towards Levi.  

Laurel hesitates. “We didn’t kill Rebecca, Levi,” Laurel says to him. “And we don’t know who did. And if you come after any of us ever again, I _will_ kill you.”

There’s something deadly about the way Laurel says it, and her tone is even, but serious.

Michaela believes her when she says she’s going to kill him if he comes back.

She’s not sure what else there is to do besides let him go then, and so they do.

“If you had anything to do with Rebecca—“Levi says, his voice raw with emotion. He’d cared for Rebecca, clearly more than he’d ever cared about Michaela. “You’ll regret it.”

“We didn’t,” Laurel says, and Michaela echoes the sentiment.

They watch him leave, and then Laurel collapses against the wall.

For all her bravado, she’s just a girl, Michaela realizes.

Michaela tentatively steps closer, and then slides down next to Laurel on the ground.

“Thank you for saving me,” Michaela says. “How did you learn how to break down doors?”

“Family business,” Laurel quips, and it comes out like a joke, but Michaela isn’t so sure it is. “Also where I learned the takedown skills. It’s all part of the Castillo package,” she continues.

“I see,” Michaela says. She doesn’t, not really.

She doesn’t actually know much of anything about Laurel. She’s never wanted to, and certainly never needed to.

She knows what kind of person Laurel is—she’s vicious, and she’ll do anything she has to do in order to get the job done, but that’s true of Michaela too. Laurel’s smart, and a little scary.

That’s all Michaela has ever needed to know about her.

But now, she knows something else.

Laurel is shaking now from the confrontation with Levi.

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Michaela reveals, shocking herself. She doesn’t need to share with Laurel, she doesn’t need to open up to her.

But, she supposes, when someone saves your life, maybe you should throw them a bone.

Laurel looks sideways at her, her face distraught and ashen. “So did I.”

Michaela takes Laurel’s hand then, holding it tightly.

They don’t have to be friends, but Laurel has earned some goodwill.

At the end of the day, Michaela knows where Laurel’s loyalties lie, and there’s something to be said about that.

“If you want to stay with me until your door gets fixed,” Laurel says, “I’ve got an extra room.”

“Thank you,” Michaela says, and she tries to think of an alternative, because Laurel still isn’t exactly her favorite person.

But this is all so complicated, and Michaela’s halfway terrified that Levi is going to come back at any moment. “I’ll pack a bag,” Michaela says, choosing her sense of safety over her pride.

She can always go back to hating Laurel tomorrow.

She did, after all, break down her door.

(The ‘to save her life’ part changes things dramatically, but Michaela’s always been good at avoiding complicated feelings.)

~~

Laurel’s apartment is . . . nice.

Too nice, even.

“You didn’t tell me you were rich,” Michaela comments. “You let Asher get all the heat, and here you are with hundred dollar bottles of wine,” she says from her position perusing Laurel’s wine rack.

“It’s not something I like to talk about,” Laurel says.

“Hmm,” Michaela considers that. “People who don’t talk about where they came from tend to have something to hide,” she comments.

Laurel doesn’t respond to that.

Michaela smiles, and looks over at her. “Did I hit on something real?”

Laurel stares back at her. “Does that mean you have something to hide?” she asks lightly.

Michaela laughs, and turns away. “Don’t we all,” she says, her tone making it clear she’s not open for a follow-up.

“Maybe,” Laurel says. “You can grab a bottle of wine, if you want,” she changes the subject.

Michaela grabs one that she knows is expensive as hell, and then opens a cupboard drawer, looking for cork screw.

“Make yourself at home,” Laurel says, but there’s no sense of judgment or discomfort. She’s being genuine.

Maybe she’s just that intent on making Michaela forgive her.

Michaela’s honestly not sure why Laurel cares anymore.

She searches for a glass, and then pours the wine.

She fully intends to drink the whole damn bottle, but she’s not alone so she’s not just going to drink from the bottle.

That’s what you do when you’re alone and sad.

And now . . . well, she’s not alone, and she’s not sad so much as a little scared, and a whole lot of angry.

“I want to wring his neck,” Michaela says conversationally, two glasses of wine later.

“That’s understandable,” Laurel says carefully, “But we’ve already got one murder to worry about, so I’d recommend against it.”

Michaela snorts, and coughs when a slight bit of wine burns its way up through her nose.

It’s disgusting, and it hurts.

She rubs her eyes, because they’re watering. “Maybe we just need to get better at covering it up,” Michaela says, and she means it as a joke, kind of, but she hears how serious she sounds.

Is this the kind of person she is now?

“Maybe,” Laurel says, “Or maybe we just need to get away from it all. We’re straddling the gray area, and we can’t do that forever.”

“No,” Michaela says, twirling the wine glass around in her fingers. “Eventually, we choose, right? Darkness or light?”

“If we still have a choice by then,” Laurel says, “Then, yeah. I guess so. Darkness or light.”

Michaela gives her a considering look, then bends forward toward Laurel, studying her carefully.  “And which one are you going to choose?” Michaela tilts her head to the side, smiling darkly. “What path will you choose?”

Laurel looks vaguely uncomfortable, and Michaela feels a bit of a thrill. Good.

“Come on, Laurel, answer the question,” Michaela presses, and she can’t quite explain why she enjoys pressing Laurel’s buttons so much.

“I don’t know that I still have a choice,” Laurel says finally. “I’m not sure I ever did.”

There’s something _honest_ about Laurel right now, something authentic and real.

Maybe it’s the wine, maybe it’s because she’s in Laurel’s lair.

For some reason, in her head, Laurel’s a lot like Michaela’s supervillain nemesis, complete with a hot leather costume and an inner sanctum.

But that’s probably the wine talking.

Michaela’s smile fades. “Did you kill Rebecca?”

Michaela is studying Laurel carefully now, looking for any sign.

Laurel looks surprised. “No,” she says softly. “But if someone hadn’t beat me to it? I don’t know, I might have.”

Michaela believes her.

Michaela pours herself another glass of wine. “It’s not too late to change,” she says.

“I don’t know—“ Laurel starts to say, but Michaela interrupts her.

“It’s not too late to change,” Michaela repeats more firmly. “Maybe we can’t undo what we’ve already done, but we can always atone.”

“Do you want to?” Laurel asks, surprising Michaela.

“Oh,” Michaela breathes carefully measured breaths. “I don’t want to go to prison.”

“That’s not an answer,” Laurel points out, and Michaela knows that.

“I know,” Michaela says. “I just—I think I still care about the kind of person I’m going to be. But right now, I’d do anything to have a shot at being a great one. Maybe not good, exactly, but—“ she sighs. “Something more.”

The wine is making her talk too much, making her open up when she shouldn’t.

“Maybe there’s no such thing as good people and bad people,” Laurel suggests.

Michaela laughs and shakes her head. “No, good people and bad people certainly exist. But there are a whole lot of people in-between, who do good things and bad things and—“ she pauses. “Well, maybe that just doesn’t matter any more.”

“Do you really believe that?” Laurel asks.

Michaela meets her eyes. “Maybe I have to.”

They sit there then, with the quiet of their own thoughts.

~~

When Michaela goes to toss the empty wine bottle, she’s not so far gone that she doesn’t see the wrappers.

The wrappers of the same chocolate that she’d recently received.

Michaela pulls one out, barely even grimacing when she touches a nearby banana peel.

“Hey, Laurel,” Michaela says confidently, just adjacent to aggressive. “I don’t suppose you have any chocolate, do you?”

Michaela makes her way over to Laurel and grabs her hand, slamming the wrapper down on her palm.

Michaela’s not even sure what’s she’s feeling right now. She feels a little lop-sided, and more emotional than she should.

Beyond all of that, she feels confused.

“Why are you sending me gifts?” Michaela asks.

Laurel’s face shutters down, and Michaela can’t read her.

She’s pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to manage it if she were sober either.

“Laurel,” Michaela says, “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m trying to apologize,” Laurel says defensively, “Is that a crime?”

Michaela hesitates, and feels her rush of energy die down. “No, I guess not. But you’re not—you’re not going to buy my forgiveness.”

She doesn’t know Laurel well enough to know if that’s the kind of person she is. And that’s what this looks like.

“I wasn’t trying to buy it,” Laurel explains, “If I were, I would have signed the damn cards. I just wanted you to have a few nice things to try to counteract how I made you feel.”

“Oh,” Michaela says, and she feels like she’s had the wind knocked out of her.

“It’s not a big deal,” Laurel grumbles, clearly uncomfortable.

Making Laurel uncomfortable does something to Michaela that she can’t quite explain.

Something clenches tightly in her, but it’s a nice sort of pressure.

“I’d tell you that you just could have apologized to my face,” Michaela says, sitting down next to Laurel. “But you technically did that.”

“I did,” Laurel says, staring down at her hands. “Can we just move on?”

It’s a weighty question, and Michaela’s not sure whether she’s asking that they move on from the discussion of the gifts, or the fact that Michaela was mad at Laurel at all, or even both.

It doesn’t matter, at that moment, because Michaela’s anger is conspicuously missing.

“We can try,” Michaela says lightly, but she’s not feeling particularly optimistic about it.

~~

When she goes back to her apartment, her door has been fixed, and she’s got a new set of keys. It’s thoughtful, Michaela thinks, and she can’t help but feel slightly relieved.

She hunts for memories of Levi—his ugly blue sweater, and the book he’d bought her after she’d gotten the romance novel as a gift from Laurel.

He’d been trying to prove something, she supposes, but it doesn’t matter any more.

She spirals a bit after her searching spree, which soon turns into a cleaning spree, and the next thing she knows, her apartment is immaculate, and it smells like lemon-scented cleaning products.

Then, she grabs The Duchess’ Surrender, and settles in to reread it.

She deserves it, you know.

~~

When she shows up to the house the next day, Connor is being obsessive, Asher’s being uncharacteristically quiet, which is sort of suspicious, but she can’t imagine what he has to hide, and Laurel and Wes are simply focused.

It means she manages to avoid mentioning Levi until right before they all leave.

“I’ve got a hot date with my boyfriend,” Connor says, smiling in that way of his. He’s domesticated, and if he didn’t have a murder hanging over his head, maybe he’d be the happiest he’s ever been. Michaela’s only known him a short while, but even she can see the difference.

“Lucky,” Asher says, “I’m a single man, just like Wes here, right?” He aims for a high five, and Wes purses his lips and looks decidedly uncomfortable.

Asher whirls around on his feet, unfazed. “Well, Connor and Michaela can get their regular booty, but I still manage to bring in new booty every night.”

“I’m not seeing Levi any more,” Michaela snaps out, even though she means to say it nonchalantly.

“What happened?” Wes asks, seeming a little too interested. She doesn’t know why he’d care.

“He’s a douchebag,” Laurel says, and Asher shrugs.

“Well, okay then,” Asher says, then wanders off.

Once he shuts the front door behind himself, Laurel looks around the corner to make sure he’s actually gone then turns back to the rest of them. “We need to get somewhere safe,” she says. “We’re going to my place, because we need to have a talk.”

Maybe they understand the seriousness of it, just from her tone or her secretiveness, but they all agree.

Fifteen minutes later, Michaela’s back on Laurel’s couch.

“We need to talk about Levi,” Laurel says, “He was friends with Rebecca, and he almost killed Michaela.”

“What?” Wes’s eyes go wide and shocked. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“How would you know?” Michaela asks.

Wes looks like a deer caught in headlights. “What do you know?” Michaela demands.

“I told him to keep away from you,” Wes insists. “And I didn’t know he was dangerous.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Connor mutters bitterly. “You never know anything.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Laurel asks. “We’re supposed to be in this together.”

Michaela sits there, and watches as the three of them go at each other.

She feels betrayed, yeah, but this is just one in a long line of betrayals within the group. And like it or not, they’re stuck with each other.

“Shut up,” Michaela says, and they do. “We can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep letting this happen. We need to start sharing. No more secrets, not when it comes to—“ She waves her hand, “You know. We have to be on the same page. And you should have come to us when you knew Levi was Rebecca’s friend. What is he, Eggs911?”

Wes sighs, and shakes his head. “Rebecca’s Eggs.”

“Oh,” Michaela says, nodding her head. “And Levi’s the guy she texted.” She’s just trying to work this out in her head.  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Wes hesitates. Laurel and Connor glare at him, and Michaela stares at him expectantly. Eventually, he breaks. “We were trying to figure out what happened to Rebecca.”

“And you thought we had something to do with that,” Michaela states matter of factly.

It’s understandable, but it wouldn’t have happened if they could trust each other.

And maybe that’s what they need to be able to do.

Michaela herself had said that she was just looking forward to the time when she doesn’t have to see any of them again, but maybe they need to approach this differently.

Maybe they need to make the best of the time they have until they have their separate lives.

They need to be a _team_.

“I don’t know where Rebecca is,” Michaela announces. “I have nothing to do with wherever she is,” she turns to Laurel. “Your turn.”

Laurel looks uncomfortable. “I don’t know where Rebecca is . . . but I think she’s dead.”

“Why do you think that?” Connor asks.

“Because if she weren’t dead, then she’d have said or done something by now. She didn’t just skip town,” Laurel is watching Wes carefully, looking only mildly sympathetic.

Michaela thinks she understands that. Rebecca was his girlfriend, but she was also a threat to all of them.

. . . and that’s why he didn’t trust them.

“I think Annalise killed her, or had Frank kill her and dump the body,” Wes says it stoically, or as stoically as he can manage, but Michaela can see the hurt underneath. “But I wasn’t sure—“ Wes hesitates. “I wasn’t sure.”

“Did Levi know?” Michaela asks carefully.

“Yeah,” Wes says softly. “He did.”

“That explains why he went after Michaela,” Laurel says. “He’s a loose cannon, he’s going to get us all arrested, or killed.”

Wes hesitates, then continues. “I’ve been working with Nate.”

“What the hell, Wes?” Connor looks like he’s ready to breathe fire. “Are you trying to get us all caught?”

“I’m trying to figure out what happened to Rebecca,” Wes snaps back. “Are you telling me you wouldn’t do the same for Oliver?”

Connor shuts up then.

“It’s not the same,” Connor says, shaking his head, but he doesn’t argue any further.

“They’ll throw us under the bus,” Laurel says then. “They’ll say we killed Rebecca to keep our secret.”

“She’s right,” Michaela agrees. “There’s no way this ends well for us. Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”

Wes squirms, then sighs. “I can’t see Annalise every day, knowing what happened.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Connor says. “Us, or Rebecca. And try to remember that Rebecca’s already dead, and we’re all still here.”

Wes is quiet, contemplative.

For a moment, Michaela wonders what will happen if he chooses Rebecca, and leaves the rest of them to suffer the consequences.

But then he nods. “Okay,” he says. “But I still need to know why.”

“Okay,” Laurel says softly. “Then we’ll find out why, right?” She looks around at the rest of them. “Right?”

Michaela nods, and they all look to Connor. “But we’re not doing anything that gets us thrown in jail,” Connor says, and Wes nods. Connor sighs. “Fine. I’m in.”

~~

Michaela gets a new umbrella as a gift that week, seemingly to replace the one that had broken just a few days prior.

She’d been complaining about it, and apparently Laurel had decided to do something about it.

It’s thoughtful, and nice, and totally unnecessary.

She picks up her phone and calls Laurel. “You need to stop sending me gifts.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful,” Laurel says, her voice warm and friendly.

We’re not friends, Michaela wants to say, but she bites her tongue.

They’re a team, so maybe that’s enough.

They’re bonded together forever now, and this time Michaela’s serious about that, and she thinks the rest of them are too.

They couldn’t keep living like that before.

They have to stick together.

“Michaela?” Laurel says, and Michaela shakes her head, realizing that she’s been quiet for a few seconds longer than she should be.

“You don’t have to keep sending me gifts,” Michaela says.

“I know,” Laurel says. “But you needed a new umbrella, right?”

“Yes, but—“

“And now you have one. It’s just a friendly gift.”

“Laurel—“ Michaela says warningly.

“Michaela,” Laurel says in the same tone.

Michaela laughs. “You frustrate me.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Laurel asks.

Michaela’s not sure. “Bad, of course,” she says, but there’s no heat to it.  “I should go,” she realizes.

She’s not even a 100% sure why she called, since obviously Laurel is just going to keep doing whatever she wants.

“Okay,” Laurel says agreeably.

“Okay,” Michaela echoes, but she doesn’t end the call. “So, um. Have you found a summer internship yet?”

Maybe she just wants someone to talk to, Michaela tells herself.

Maybe she _needs_ someone to talk to.

~~

Michaela tries to not ask herself questions like ‘did they do it?’ when it comes to Annalise’s clients.

In her experience, it doesn’t matter to Keating, and if you let yourself get caught up in morality, then you’re just going to end up miserable.

Michaela’s wanted to be a high-powered defense attorney for a long time, and this is the life.

She’s not sure if it’s still what she wants, but it’s what she’s been working toward, and she can’t let herself be distracted from it.

She’s going to be good at this—she’s already got a knack for it, and she knows that.

Their current client is a wife who swears she didn’t kill her husband, and it’s kind of funny, considering.

Michaela wonders if it bothers Annalise, who certainly didn’t kill her own husband.

Michaela’s still not sure why Annalise is protecting them.

Her life would be easier if she’d just let them all rot away in prison.

It doesn’t matter now, because she’s got them all tied up like puppets.

Michaela bristles against that. She hates it, but it’s also the only thing keeping them all safe.

“Do you think she came to Annalise because she thinks Annalise killed her own husband and got away with it?” Laurel asks her, sitting down beside her with a stack of files.

Michaela snorts. “It’s as good a reason as any,” Michaela replies. She’s about to ask _do you think she did it_? but just barely manages to stop herself.

It doesn’t matter if she did it. She’s the client, and this is their job.

And unlike Connor, Michaela’s not letting it get personal.

She wonders if they’re all hardened now, if they’ve lost their humanity.

She remembers her conversation with Laurel, about darkness and light, and wonders if it weren’t just a moot point.

Her adoptive parents, good Christians that they are, would be disappointed to hear her say that.

In fact, they’d be disappointed by a lot of what she does and who she is.

She never felt like part of their family, not really. She’d been old enough when she’d come to them that she’d remembered panhandling with her mother, remembered darkness and dirt.

_That’s_ who she is, underneath the gloss and perfection.

“If you ever find someone,” Michaela asks, “Do you think not telling them all of your secrets will ruin the relationship?”

Laurel shrugs. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m drawn to people who would get it—that’s why I jumped into bed with Frank. Reminds me of my dad.”

Michaela cocks her head to the side. Laurel’s never mentioned her parents to Michaela before. “What’s your dad like?”

Laurel smiles, but there’s something sad, almost wistful about it. “A criminal.”

Michaela’s not going to sit there and psychoanalyze Laurel, but she knows what people say about being drawn to the things of their childhood, about repeating their past, about marrying people like their fathers.

“Sounds like you ought to get that checked out,” Michaela muses, teasing gently.

“They say realizing your weaknesses is half the battle,” Laurel says lightly. “But anyway—honestly? Everyone keeps secrets. Some keep you safe, and some destroy you.”

~~

They’re on one of their little spy missions, trying to break into someone’s office, when Michaela kisses Laurel.

It’s not personal, and it’s certainly not meaningful. It’s just business.

This is just the kind of thing people do when they’re trying to hide their true intentions, she tells herself.

Michaela’s trying to pick a lock, and the security guard is coming, so she presses herself back against the door, covering the door handle and pulling Laurel up against herself.

Michaela listens to the footsteps fade away, and then she breaks away from Laurel, and goes back to trying to break into the guy’s office.

Laurel’s looking at her, but Michaela’s trying to focus on the task at hand.

Her lips feel like they’re burning, and she feels a little out of breath, but that’s probably just the stress.

“You’re a good kisser,” Laurel says, and Michaela chokes back a laugh.

There’s no need to draw attention with a loud laugh right now.

Michaela freezes for a moment.

Maybe she needs to stop breaking the damn law.

One of these days, she’s going to get caught.

“It was just a joke,” Laurel says, “I mean, not a joke, so much as a teasing comment. I’m not trying to insult you.”

They’ve got a tentative peace right now, and Laurel’s even more reluctant than Michaela is to break it.

“No,” Michaela says, going back to working the lock, and then opening the door and sliding in, and letting Laurel follow her. “I was just thinking about something else.”

“What?” Laurel asks, but Michaela just shakes her head.

They both start hunting around the office. The man it belongs to is home sick, thankfully, so they shouldn’t have to worry about anyone walking in on them.

“I didn’t mean anything by the kiss,” Michaela says, opening a drawer and sifting through it. “It was just a diversionary tactic.”

“Of course,” Laurel says.

“I don’t like girls like that,” Michaela says. “I like guys.”

“I like both,” Laurel says then, and Michaela looks up at her in surprise.

Michaela frowns, scrunching up her nose. “Is that really a thing?”

“Yes,” Laurel says, and she sounds tired, and maybe even vaguely irritated.

“I’m sorry,” Michaela says, “I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ve seen a couple episodes of the L Word, and even the lesbians think bisexuality is just some kind of way station.”

Laurel laughs bitterly. “Yeah, I know.”

Michaela starts in on the computer, which doesn’t even have a password, Christ. This man deserves to get all his secrets stolen.

Michaela copies all the relevant files she can find onto her usb, and then pops it out, turning the computer back off.

Some people need to make better life choices, she thinks, and then freezes.

Including her.

“Got it,” she says, and Laurel nods and stops taking pictures of files, and they make their exit.

~~

Here’s the thing: Michaela’s never kissed a girl before, and so she’s not sure what she’s supposed to do with the memory of it in her head.

It doesn’t seem to want to fade away.

It’s merging with other memories, like the fact that Michaela’s never had an orgasm, and apparently they’re matter of course for Laurel, and the fact that Laurel apparently likes girls.

She’s not sure if she’s envious, or—well, that’s a thought process she probably shouldn’t continue down.

She shuts it down violently, because that’s what she does.

_Michaela_ doesn’t like girls.

She remembers being eight years old, and having her adoptive parents tell her that girls aren’t supposed to like girls, and she remembers that making sense.

She’s felt a twinge, here and there, but she’s pretty sure that’s normal.

Perfectly straight girls talk about girl crushes all the time. Plus, it’s normal to think someone is attractive. That doesn’t mean you’re _attracted_ to them.

Michaela’s not sure where you’re supposed to draw the line, but that’s not the point.

Michaela’s straight.

And maybe it’s just leftover anxiety from Levi or something, or the fact that Laurel came to her rescue.

She’s misplacing emotions, and the fact that she can’t stop thinking about one annoying kiss doesn’t _mean_ anything.

~~

The four of them meet to study and eat pizza.

Michaela’s pretty sure that Asher would be upset if he knew he wasn’t invited, but the truth is that Michaela has gotten exhausted by keeping secrets.

It’s nice, if only for an hour or two, to just be around people and not have to worry about what she says.

She thinks the others must feel the same way.

It’s nothing against Asher, though the guy can sometimes be exhausting to deal with all on his own.

It’s just that the four of them are a team of sorts.

The gifts from Laurel aren’t weekly any more, they just come sporadically, like little happy surprises when she’s having a particularly rough day.

Laurel is good at reading Michaela, and it unnerves her.

All of this requires too much vulnerability, and too much trust, and Michaela would like to have at least a few cards to hold close to her chest.

Instead, when she keeps stretching uncomfortably, because she can’t seem to get a good night’s sleep, Laurel buys her a new pillow, which is already doing wonders for her neck.

Michaela thinks she might be warming to Laurel, might have already forgiven her somewhere along the line, and it’s not even about the gifts.

But Michaela doesn’t like to think about that.

Laurel grunts and gets up to go to the restroom, and Wes groans.

“I’m stuffed,” Wes says, holding his stomach and leaning back against the couch. His eyes flutter closed, and he looks like he’s about to take a nap.

Michaela rolls her eyes.

They’re at her apartment, which means no one is sleeping over.

“This is a really nice vase,” Connor says from her kitchen counter. “Kind of at odds with the rest of the apartment.”

“Excuse you,” Michaela says, whirling around to look at him. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not saying you don’t have good taste,” Connor says.

“Sure you aren’t,” Michaela says. “It was a gift.”

“Someone likes you a lot,” Connor says. “Maybe the same person who gave you that bracelet. Your secret admirer?”

Michaela loves the bracelet, and she wears it whenever she can.

It’s gorgeous, and it looks good with almost everything. “So?” Michaela challenges.

“It kinda looks like you have a sugar daddy,” Connor teases. 

“It’s just a friendly thing,” Michaela says.

“Sure it is,” Connor smiles at her, and it’s clear he doesn’t believe her at all.

“He’s right,” Wes says suddenly. “If you’re getting really nice gifts from a guy who isn’t family, he probably likes you.”

“What if they’re not from a guy?” Michaela asks, feeling triumphant.

“Still trying to bang you,” Connor says, flopping back down on the couch next to her.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Michaela says.

“Who’s being ridiculous?” Laurel wanders back into the living room.

“Michaela,” Wes says, and she shoots him a nasty look.

“Connor and Wes are both being ridiculous.” Michaela’s not sure why, but she doesn’t want to tell them that Laurel’s the one giving her the gifts.

Her face feels hot, and she feels flushed.

“Okay then,” Laurel says, sitting back down and grabbing her books. “We’ve still got studying to do,” she says.

“Exactly,” Michaela agrees. “We need to focus.”

Connor gives her a strange look, but doesn’t argue, and Wes opens up his eyes and sits back up.

~~

She’s at a club with the others, and even Asher is there this time, and she’s supposed to be relaxing, but she can’t. She’s sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, and contemplating just going home.

That’s when Laurel slides the shots in front of her. “Come on, let loose,” Laurel says, smiling at her.

Her chest feels tight and her stomach twinges, and it’s infuriating.

She just needs to get this out of her system, whatever it is.

She takes the shots quickly, one after the other, barely catching her breath.

Laurel holds out her hand, so that she can pull her off toward the dance floor.

The last time Laurel tried to dance with Michaela, it turned into a battle.

This time, Michaela takes her hand, and lets Laurel take her off to go dance.

It’s nice, and fun, and perfectly friendly.

It’s normal, even.

It doesn’t feel normal.

She dances for as long as she can, but the alcohol is doing its job, and she feels loose and foolish.

She pulls away as soon as she can manage, and heads back to the bar, where she just plops her head on the bar and moans.

“Something wrong?” A nice, lilting voice asks her.

Michaela lifts up her head. “Nothing,” Michaela says in clipped tones.

The woman smiles. “You look far too sad for nothing.”

“I’m not sad,” Michaela says. “I’m—“

“Frustrated?” The woman asks, and Michaela stiffens.

“No,” Michaela lies. It’s none of her business.

“Don’t be so tense,” the woman says. “Relax.”

Michaela orders another drink then. “I’m perfectly relaxed,” she says.

~~

A drink and a half later, she’s not drunk enough to blame her actions on the alcohol.

She is, however, just drunk enough to get thoughtful and curious.

She ends up making out with the woman from the bar in the bathroom, firmly planted on the bathroom sink.

It’s nice, pleasant even.

It’s not what she’s looking for, and she pulls away before it escalates.

A few weeks ago, she’d never kissed a girl, and now she’s kissed two.

She’s flustered and she’s been drinking, so what she really needs to do is go home and think about everything that she’s doing.

She looks at herself in the mirror and rights her dress, and then heads out so that she can go home.

The second she opens the door and the cacophony hits her, she’s overwhelmed for a moment, frozen where she’s standing.

It’s apparently long enough for Laurel to spot her, and she heads over and grabs her arm, pulling her back to dance.

Every time Laurel’s body brushes hers, Michaela feels like she’s fighting a shiver.

This isn’t her—at least, this isn’t the girl she’d always thought she was.

But in the past year, things have changed.

Maybe this is just part of it.

Michaela looks up and meets Laurel’s eyes, and feels something so ravenous and intense that she’s a little terrified by the force of it.

“I have to go,” Michaela says, but Laurel just tilts her head to the side in confusion.

Laurel moves her head closer to Michaela’s, “What?”

“I have to go,” Michaela says, and she pulls herself away from Laurel.

This needs to stop.

~~

Michaela likes sex.

Yes, she’s never had an orgasm, but that doesn’t change the fact that sex can still be an enjoyable experience.

She doesn’t know what she’s missing, no, but so long as she doesn’t know, everything’s okay.

This, at least, has been her policy up till tonight.

She’s sobering up, but her body feels hot and tight, and she’s trying to ignore it, she really is, but it’s not working.

She needs a sex friend.

Maybe, in fact, she needs Laurel.

Maybe it’s the tension between them, or maybe it’s the fact that Michaela’s still got built up frustration, but Michaela wants to pounce.

It takes Michaela reading through her law books and cleaning her apartment to finally work away some of her sexual frustration, but it also gives her the time to work out a plan of attack.

~~

Michaela knows she’s attractive, and she knows she’s smart, but she’s not exactly a seductress.

But again, she’s smart, and she knows how to lay siege.

First, she invites Laurel out to dinner.

Michaela doesn’t want to make it too romantic, so she goes for somewhere lowkey, with lots of twinkling lights.

She can just say it’s beautiful, that she likes the atmosphere. And so she does.

“Why did you want to have dinner?” Laurel asks, looking around, a little confused.

“I don’t like to dine by myself, and I was feeling the need for a night out,” Michaela says, and that’s mostly true.

Michaela can’t just come out and say, ‘so tell me about your orgasms,’ and so her current plan is just to drop hints.

“Are you dating anyone?” Michaela asks then.

Laurel tilts her head to the side and looks at her like she’s some strange sort of creature.

“Um,” Laurel hesitates. “No. I’ve been trying to stay away from Frank.”

“Cool,” Michaela says. “I bet you miss the orgasms.”

Laurel smiles slightly. “I don’t go without.”

“Oh,” Michaela says. “Oh!” Michaela blushes. “I’ve never been very good at that,” she says casually.

“I figured, you know, with the whole ‘no orgasms’ thing,” Laurel says wryly.

“Right,” Michaela says. “I need to get a handle on that. Get myself a sex friend or something, someone who knows what they’re doing.”

“I’d recommend it,” Laurel says before biting into her pasta.

“I don’t have a lot of options though. Connor’s gay, Asher’s, well, Asher, and Wes—“ Michaela trails off, then frowns.

“I get it,” Laurel says. “I could put you in touch with someone,” Laurel says. “Help you meet someone.”

Michaela’s not sure why, but that’s oddly disappointing.

Beyond the fact that it’s not her plan, the fact that Laurel wants her to go sleep with someone else—and she needs to not go down that train of thought.

“Someone trustworthy,” Michaela says. “Someone hot, who knows what they’re doing.”

“You’ve got requirements,” Laurel says. “How am I not surprised?”

Michaela smiles back. “I’ve been trying to broaden my horizons,” she explains, watching Laurel take a sip of wine. “Maybe a girl.”

Michaela hides a smirk when Laurel chokes on the wine.

“Oh, are you okay?” Michaela asks innocently, handing over an extra napkin.

“Fine,” Laurel says, taking a sip of her water. “Just a little surprised.”

“I’m allowed to expand my horizons,” Michaela says simply.

“You are,” Laurel says, then gives Michaela a careful look.

Laurel smiles, and it takes everything Michaela has to not panic.

“You know,” Laurel says conversationally, and Michaela knows she’s screwed. “If you wanted to have sex with me, you only had to ask.”

“What? Me? No. Never.” Michaela fumbles with her silverware and takes a bite of her dinner.

Laurel laughs. “Michaela, you’re too predictable.”

“I take offense to that. Predictable makes me sound boring.”

“You could never be boring,” Laurel says, shaking her head. She studies Michaela, and Michaela wonders what she’s looking for.

Weakness, probably.

“Okay,” Laurel agrees finally.

“Okay?” Michaela’s trying to be sure here.

“I’ll have sex with you,” Laurel says.

This time, Michaela almost chokes.

~~

Laurel doesn’t just have sex with her, oh no.

Apparently she’s a seductress, and she needs to make sure that Michaela is absolutely begging for it before she gives in.

Michaela’s growing to hate herself, and Laurel, for putting her in this position.

It shouldn’t surprise her, because her relationship with Laurel has always been rather combative.

It starts with the underwear.

Or, well, the lack thereof.

This week, she doesn’t get a gift. Instead, she gets a note, instructing her not to wear any underwear.

Michaela snorts, and shakes her head.

Stubbornly, Michaela holds out for the first day.

When Michaela turns a corner in Annalise’s house and Laurel presses her up against a wall, reaching up under her dress, she knows she’s made a mistake.

Laurel seems disappointed, and touches her through her panties.

Michaela bites her tongue while trying to hold back a whimper.

She can hear Connor and Asher arguing about some precedent, and someone could come around the corner or through the front door at any moment.

Michaela wants it anyway.

Oh, if her parents could see her now.

In retrospect, she’s spent a long time rejecting this part of herself—the part that likes girls, the part that can absolutely glorify in sex.

She’d let part of that open with Levi, as some sort of rebellion after Aiden, but now she’s out, full-force.

She’s giving in.

Laurel taps her with a minor slap, and then pulls her hand away.

“That’s all bad girls get,” Laurel says, and Michaela melts against the wall.

Tomorrow, she’s not wearing underwear.

~~

Laurel fingers her at a movie theatre, because apparently she can’t just bone down, like normal people do.

No, she’s got to draw it out, and make Michaela squirm.

Laurel gets her so close, but not close enough.

She keeps stopping and starting, or else Michaela would just worry that Laurel’s failing, that Michaela is just part of the population that doesn’t get to orgasm.

Michaela has no idea what happens during the movie.

Afterwards, she can’t even remember the name of it.

~~

Wes lets Rebecca go. They have a small service for her, though it’s really just them standing around trying to think of nice things to say about Rebecca while Wes tries not to cry.

Michaela lets out a breath she feels like she’s been holding for too long.

It’s time for them to move on with their lives, and start new chapters.

This thing she’s doing with Laurel is part of that—she swears after that first orgasm, she’s going to be okay, she’s going to be brand new, and this weird fixation with Laurel will end.

Connor pats Wes’s shoulder when he tells them he’s run out his last lead.

Rebecca’s gone, and she’s not coming back, and there’s never going to be any proof that takes down her murderer without taking down the rest of them.

Deep down, Wes always knew that.

Annalise will continue to protect them, and they’ll continue to wait out their time until they can all go off and live their individual lives.

This, it seems, is all that they can do.

~~

Laurel shows up in a damn trench coat, like she thinks she’s in some kind of movie.

Michaela laughs. “What’s with the outfit?”

“I brought your gift,” Laurel says, and Michaela looks around her.

“Um, I don’t see it.” She’s being purposefully obtuse, because she knows what’s coming.

“Let me in,” Laurel says gently, smiling at her with the kind of heat that gets Michaela all hot and bothered.

Michaela lets her in.

“Aren’t you going to unwrap your present?” Laurel asks, playing with the belt on her jacket.

“Oh,” Michaela says, “Yes, I am.” She undoes Laurel’s jacket, and is rewarded with a very naked Laurel.

Praise Jesus, she thinks.

~~

Laurel’s tongue on her clit is a religious experience.

The teasing beforehand is driving her wild, like every nerve in her body is obsessed with Laurel’s touch, from her mouth, her ears, her breasts, to her tight, clenching pussy.

When she finally comes, she finally understands what people mean when they say ‘you know it when you feel it.’

It shudders through her body, making her entire body quiver.

Michaela just wants to lie there in the afterglow, in this one perfect moment.

Laurel keeps going, and it’s almost painful how aroused and sensitive she is.

“I can’t—“ she moans, but Laurel is ceaseless.

“You can,” Laurel says softly, and Michaela feels it, building and building, and building.

She thinks she’s going to cry, because it’s too much, Laurel’s wrong, she can’t do this.

She’s wrong.

This orgasm is longer, more intense, and her body collapses beneath the force of it.

Michaela is breathless.

She has no idea how she’s not supposed to do _that_ again.

She looks at Laurel, and feels her heart clench, and she’s reminded of her birth mother’s sayings.

One of which included, “what you feel with your vagina, you don’t need to feel with your heart.”

Well, she’s never been very good at that.

~~

Laurel lets Michaela explore her body.

Michaela’s never touched such soft curves. She’s used to hard lines, and this is a revelation.

Michaela’s admired women in passing, but being faced with a naked, beautiful Laurel is something entirely different.

Michaela’s not sure if this is a oneshot deal, so she does everything she can to commit Laurel’s body to memory.

And after, she fights not to fall asleep, trying to extend the moment. Eventually, she falls into a restful, gentle sleep despite herself, because no one moment can last forever.

~~

Laurel’s still there when she wakes up, which is promising. It probably has more to do with the fact that she has no reason to be ashamed or sneak out than anything else, but Michaela will take what she can get.

Michaela makes Laurel breakfast.

Thus, Laurel wakes up to the smell of french toast, which Michaela happens to know is her favorite.

See, Laurel’s not the only one who knows how to do research.

“You’re amazing,” Laurel says when Michaela hands her a cup of coffee. “Breathtaking.”

Michaela can’t help but smile. It’s like she can’t seem to stop her lips from curving up.

Her body feels relaxed and happy.

She’s not worried about the kind of person she’s going to be, or whether she’s going to end up in prison any time soon.

No, she’s just enjoying the moment.

She feels like she’d been living in the shadows, trying desperately to be someone she wasn’t, and now she’s bathing in the sunlight.

Laurel kisses her then, surprising her.

Michaela melts into the kiss, and stops thinking for a moment.

When Laurel’s lips are on hers, it’s like her heart stops beating for a moment, and the world is spinning so fast she’s dizzy.

Laurel pulls away, and Michaela grasps for words.

“So, um,” Michaela starts. “Last night was amazing.”

“So was this morning,” Laurel says, “Before we fell back asleep.”

“Yeah,” Michaela agrees softly. “It was.”

She’s caught in Laurel’s smile now.

“I don’t want to do something weird like thank you or something,” Michaela says. “But I want to—well, I guess I just want to thank you, because you are amazing, and I think you’ve changed my life.” It’s a little dramatic, but that’s how it feels right now.

And it’s not just about the orgasms.

“Glad to be of service,” Laurel says.

Michaela just smiles. “You’re a good friend,” she says, and then winces at the look on Laurel’s face.

Honestly, she feels ridiculous, because this feeling in the pit of her stomach is because of a lot more than friendship, but she doesn’t know how to say that.

“We’re friends now?” Laurel asks.

“Of course,” Michaela says without hesitation, and she’s not even sure when it happened.

It’s like this has completely taken over her life when she had her back turned, and now everything’s different.

Laurel smiles back at her, almost sadly, and Michaela’s not sure why. “We’re finally there.”

~~

The gifts stop coming.

At the end of the day, Michaela’s actually pretty happy about that.

She’s been waiting for them to stop for a while now. They’re not necessary.

She’s stressed, sometimes, but she’s happy too.

Michaela wants a repeat of her night with Laurel, but she’s not sure how to bring up the subject.

When Michaela tries to come onto her, Laurel seems standoffish. But maybe Laurel just can’t see Michaela’s tentative attempts for what they are.

Maybe, Michaela’s just in denial.

Then, Michaela figures it out.

She’s a new Michaela Pratt, but Laurel’s not interested.

And that’s okay, you know. It happens.

Michaela’s a little upset about it, but she’ll be absolutely fine. That’s just life.

~~

Michaela is a liar.

She’s lying to herself, and she’s usually pretty good at that.

This time, she’s not.

It takes three weeks of distant Laurel and moping around her apartment before Connor points it out to her.

“You’re moping,” Connor says. “And he’s probably not worth it.”

“She,” Michaela says miserably, burying her head in her couch.

“She?” Connor repeats. “Your mystery gift-giver?”

Maybe she’s got a fondness for Connor, or maybe she thinks he’s actually decent underneath all the sarcasm and snark.

Shockingly, they’re friends too.

Honestly, it’s like Michaela wasn’t paying any attention while her entire world tilted on its axis.

“Laurel,” Michaela reveals, pulling her head away from the couch to face Connor. “I slept with Laurel, and now she’s practically ignoring me.”

“Do you like her?” Connor asks, just _barely_ managing to stop his jaw from dropping. He’s looking at her in total confusion, but because they’re actually friends, he’s trying to be helpful. “Because if you don’t, then it’s easy enough to be like, ‘hey, we banged, we’re over it, let’s go back to normal.’”

“I don’t—“ Michaela hesitates, then frowns. “I don’t know.”

Connor watches her carefully, then shakes his head.

“You’ve got it bad,” he says finally. “I knew something was up with you two.”

“I just wanted an orgasm,” Michaela says.

“And did you get one?” Connor asks. Michaela nods. “And you went to her specifically for that?”

Michaela nods again. “Yeah.”

“You’re a liar,” Connor calls her out. “You like her. And now you’re moping around because she doesn’t like you.”

Michaela feels her chest clench painfully, and she flinches.

“See,” Connor says. “You know I’m right.”

Michaela kind of hates him right now, but he’s right.

~~

Here’s the thing about Laurel: she gets under your skin.

She’s quiet until she’s worked her way into your life, or your system, and then she’s intense and everywhere. Next thing you know, she’s consumed you.

Michaela’s not putting up with this.

She’s dealt with unrequited want before, and she’s generally pretty good at getting over it.

Step one: Cleansing.

She takes everything that Laurel gave her and shoves it in a garbage bag, then shoves it into the back of her closet, where she’s not going to see it for a while.

She hates giving up the pillow, because it’s comfortable, but she can always get a new one.

The bracelet breaks her heart a little. She’s grown attached to it, and it’s sweet. That, however, is part of the problem.

The book she’s already reread half a dozen times, so it’s not like she’ll miss it. This is what she tells herself anyway.

Step two: Wallowing.

She’s always been really good at this step—she eats too much ice cream, and too many french fries, and spends all her free time in her pajama pants watching movies where people get murdered in especially gruesome ways.

Romantic comedies are for happy people, and she’s not exactly a happy person right now.

Step three: Move on.

This is the hard part.

She keeps telling herself to do it, keeps trying to force it along, but it’s not working.

Michaela likes Laurel, she let herself care when she wasn’t paying enough attention to stop herself, and now she’s stuck.

Connor’s the one who gave her the idea to move on, to mourn Laurel like the loss of any other relationship.

He’s also the one who gives her the better idea.

“Maybe you should just try to win her over,” Connor suggests. “You guys had sex, and you’ve got enough sexual tension that when I’m in a room with you two, I’m wildly uncomfortable. So I say go for it.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not into me,” Michaela points out.

“But did she actually say that?” Connor challenges. “She could just be keeping her distance because she thinks you aren’t into her.”

“This feels so high school,” Michaela says with a sigh.

But he’s right.

She needs to at least try.

_~~_

Laurel’s got a thing for cinnamon and vanilla, and so Michaela buys new body wash and lotion, and makes sure she smells good enough to eat.

She can’t exactly get an advanced copy of Laurel’s favorite author’s new book, but she _can_ get the movie Laurel’s been saying she wants to watch on DVD and make sure it ends up right outside Laurel’s door.

It’s the first gift. She doesn’t leave a note, but she doesn’t have to.

“What’s with the movie, Michaela?” Laurel asks.

“Oh, are you talking to me now? I thought you were still ignoring me,” Michaela says.

“Michaela, please,” Laurel pleads.

Michaela walks out of Annalise’s living room without another word.

~~

Michaela doesn’t have the patience to only give one gift a week, so she does one every day that she can.

A stuffed penguin, because Laurel’s got an entire collection of them in her apartment. They’re hidden away in her closet as her secret shame. Michaela’s not proud, but she’s a bit of a snooper, especially since she’d been a little iffy on Laurel the first time she’d ever been to her apartment.

A charm bracelet, not nearly as expensive as the one that Laurel got her. But just as meaningful, filled with charms like the scales of justice and a heart, and a penguin. Again, Laurel’s got a thing about penguins.

It’s amazing how much you can pick up about a person, if you put your mind to it.

It’s silly, but she frames the napkin Laurel had used after she’d snorted wine out of her nose at the restaurant when Michaela was coming onto her.

She doesn’t even know why she kept it to begin with. It had gotten balled up near her plate, and when she’d been getting ready to go, she’d just grabbed it.

Conveniently, this is also the gift that gets Laurel to show up at her front door.

“What kind of game are you playing?” Laurel demands.

“The same one you were,” Michaela answers, then tilts her head to the side. “But I’m looking for a slightly different outcome.”

Laurel just looks at her, clearly bewildered. “What are you doing?”

She looks genuinely upset, her eyes shining and her mouth open just a tad.

Michaela fights the urge to kiss her, because this is so not the time.

“Seducing you?” Michaela says, and it comes out more like a question.

Laurel looks stunned. “What?”

“Seducing you,” Michaela says again, this time a bit more surely.

“Wait a second,” Laurel says, waving around a hand. “You called me your friend, you _thanked_ me for having sex with you.”

“Yeah,” Michaela says. “So?”

“When did you change your mind?” Laurel asks, like this is an important question.

It’s weird is what it is. “I didn’t change my mind, Laurel. We’re friends, or at least I thought we were. And I thanked you because I had mind-blowing sex with you, and my first orgasms ever, and I figured that deserved at least a thank you.” Michaela looks at her like she’s an alien from some strange planet.

Then, Laurel laughs.

Michaela doesn’t know what she was expecting, but that wasn’t it.

She can’t help the hurt that fills her.

“Wow,” Michaela says, holding back tears. She doesn’t like to cry, and she certainly won’t cry in front of _Laurel._ “That was just hurtful. You didn’t have to laugh at me.”

Laurel frowns, and any sense of mirth is gone. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I was laughing at the situation.”

“Yeah, well, still not funny,” Michaela says.

“Michaela,” Laurel says patiently, “What do you want from me?”

Michaela just waves around a hand. “Just, you know.”

“I don’t,” Laurel says. “I think you should tell me.”

“Yeah, so you can reject me yet again? I’m not really feeling that right now.”

“Michaela,” Laurel says firmly. “I think you should tell me.”

Michaela sighs, then looks around at anything but Laurel until she runs out of non-Laurel space to look at.

She meets Laurel’s eyes. “I like you,” she says softly. “I don’t know why, because you’re annoying, and judgmental, and manipulative—but I’m pretty sure that’s _why_ I like you, which is kind of making me miserable.”

Laurel takes a step forward, and Michaela takes a step back.

“Michaela, I’m not going to hurt you,” Laurel says, exasperated.

“Not physically, anyway,” Michaela mutters.

“What was that?”

“You heard me,” Michaela says challengingly.

Laurel takes another step forward, and this time Michaela stands her ground.

Laurel steps right up in front of Michaela, so close Michaela could probably kiss her without taking a step of her own.

Michaela stays exactly where she is.

She’s not sure how she ended up this way, how her life became this messy.

But this is the life she has.

Laurel frames the sides of Michaela’s face with her hands. “I like you too,” she says softly.

“Oh,” Michaela says. Her face erupts in a smile. “Good.”

“Yeah,” Laurel whispers, barely loud enough for Michaela to hear. She presses her lips against Michaela’s, and Michaela thinks this might be that thing people talk about.

This is that moment when everything clicks into place, and the universe is aligned, and everything feels utterly _right_ , if only for a while.

And, for this moment, Michaela isn’t worried about darkness and light, and the rest of her life.

She’s only worried about the girl in her arms, and the possibility that something beautiful might actually come out of all of this.


End file.
